


Bits and Pieces

by amberdowny



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 07:37:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2142642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amberdowny/pseuds/amberdowny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What at first felt like the opportunity of a lifetime stretching before you as unfathomable as the sea has long since become a fishbowl. The truth is, none of you can take ten more years of this.  You can't take four more years.</p><p>Mostly gen, hinted possible pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bits and Pieces

You don't want to be here. You're in the middle of at least fifty thousand screaming people, some as close as ten feet, some so far away and so high up, their faces just blend into a flesh-colored mass, and all of them are screaming for you. You're living the dream, there are people who would probably literally kill to be in your place, and you hate it. 

You didn't always hate it, of course. At first, it was all incredible, the screaming fans, getting to travel to places you never in your wildest dreams thought you'd get to see, and being able to do what you love and make a living out of it. But lately, it's wearing on you. You haven't stopped going in four years, and what at first felt like the opportunity of a lifetime stretching before you as unfathomable as the sea has long since become a fishbowl. You take a moment to feel incredibly ungrateful, but then you look around. 

Zayn is standing closest to you. He looks terrible, which is saying a lot since he normally looks so effortlessly beautiful, all golden skin and soulful eyes. Now, his eyes are puffy with dark shadows smudged underneath. Contrasting sharply, his cheeks are hollowed, giving him a drawn, sick look. You know that Zayn is taking all of this the hardest, all the attention, the criticism, even the fans and your complete lack of privacy. You don't understand why Zayn recently made his Instagram public when he always clung to whatever bits of his personal life he could keep personal. Maybe it was the pressure to give moremoremore, maybe he felt like he had to. But what will be left of Zayn if they keep chipping him away? You feel ridiculous for a moment, too dramatic, but then you remember what kind of scale you live on now, and your fear doesn't feel like melodrama at all.

Niall is further down the catwalk, bouncing around and looking as though he's having the time of his life. You know it's an act though, and maybe more than a little bit of alcohol. Niall has always been the most upbeat about everything, the most excited about each new place you get to go. But even Niall's infinite cheerfulness is, it turns out, finite like all things. Maybe it was somewhere in between being called the manwhore of you and the "other one" practically in the same breath, but Niall's bright eyes and rosy cheeks are far dimmed.

Liam dances past you, wiggling his hips and inciting a fresh round of screams. Liam started out being the most earnest of all of you, needing to prove himself to Simon after his perceived failure at the judge's houses on his first X Factor stint. He learned to take himself less seriously, finally, but when everything exploded and the rumours and the haters came raining down, you worried about him. You're not really sure what's going through Liam's head these days. From his twitter identity crisis back to the attacks on his word choice months ago, Liam has been silent on it all--at least to you. He might still confide in Zayn. In fact, if he doesn't everything is worse than you thought. 

The song ends and you hastily gulp down water, shaking your sweaty hair out of your eyes as Niall saunters down the catwalk, thanking everyone for being fans, reminding them that you've recently hit the four year mark as a band, incites a cheer to go up of, "Ten more years! Ten more years!"

Liam hastily intervenes, "Four more years! Four more years!"

The truth is, none of you can take ten more years of this. You can't take four more years. 

The next song starts, and Louis ghosts past you, and, like two ships passing in the night, you don't even look his way. You want to. Of course you do. You want to be able to joke with him on stage like you can with Niall, to touch his shoulder like you can Zayn, even to share the same water bottle like you can with Liam. But with the two of you at the center of constant fanwars, you can't do that. And it gets to you. To both of you. Louis doesn't smile as much as he used to. He doesn't make as many jokes. The ones he does are twisted darkly, no longer only lighthearted and mischievous. Louis has always done what he wanted, made his own rules, and now that he's been caged, it's like some of his light has gone out. He's still Louis, just a jaded, smoked-glass version. You might have been together, once. In another world. In another lifetime. Before the shipping and the conspiracy theories. Before your every movement was micro-managed. 

While you have a moment before you have to sing your part, you strike a pose for a camera pointed your way. You don't hate everything about your life, after all. You have the power to make someone's night just a little bit better, so you do it. Whether it's striking a pose, blowing a kiss, or just waving, those little moments are yours, and you enjoy them and you enjoy giving them away. If only everyone could be satisfied with those pieces, instead of wanting your whole lives, everything might be a bit more bearable. 

The stage and the sky explode for "Best Song Ever," and you sing about how you danced all night, and you look out at the dancing crowd, signs waving to the beat. Pictures of your own face. Pictures of all of your faces. "Rock me, I'm legal!" and "I love Liam" and "Paint with me, Zayn!" and "Always whorin' for Niall Horan" and "I <3 1D" and "Larry is real!"

The night is winding down, another stop on the tour marked off the calendar. This is your first night of three in this city, and you like that, you like when you can stay more than a few hours in one place. Anything to make the road seem more like home.

But the cities all blend together after awhile, much like the faces in the crowd, and it will just be a longer pause between the vibrations of wheels on asphalt when you try to remember it later.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
